Ahn Jiho was knee-deep in line practice.
Honestly.
Taking any job that came his way to pay off debts and finally move into a proper company building…
“It is said a person’s life can’t see even an inch ahead. Therefore, let us not make promises.”
Before he knew it, he’d gone from a web drama to being cast as the male lead in a fully scheduled TV drama.
“Instead, let us do this.”
Now that it had come to this, he wanted to do it right.
“If we wish to see each other, we’ll see each other; if we wish to walk side by side, we’ll walk—let us be together like that.”
For a moment he let his eyes gleam with a touch of melancholy and made the motion of gently taking the hand of a woman who wasn’t there.
“Ha… this doesn’t feel right.”
Then, catching sight of his reflection, he furrowed his brow.
“Ahem, hem!”
He cleared his throat.
“Ah, aah—.”
Displeased with how deep and heavy his voice sounded, An Jiho cycled through different voices and tones.
So acting really does live and die on projection.
Kang Hajun, called the “god of projection,” popped into his mind.
He’s probably busy…
It was a moment when Jiho desperately missed Kang Hajun, who’d trained his voice.
But there was actually a bigger problem.
He couldn’t sink into the emotions.
It was true he lacked understanding of the historical era.
And since he’d run single-mindedly toward the path of “singer” from a young age, he felt personally unequipped to express searing romantic feeling.
Something about his expression was clumsy…
There wasn’t a speck of tenderness to be found.
No, if he kept at it, his skill would improve bit by bit.
“Let us be together… ah, still clumsy.”
With that thought, he kept on practicing his acting.
“Together. Let us be together. Together. Together. Ha… this isn’t the feeling.”
Until the script’s pages were so full of scribbles, they were wearing thin.
What was a man of that era feeling when he said such words?
He didn’t know the answer.
It was just a question tossed out on the off chance.
“Sigh…”
They say nothing in the world is easy, but everything seems to get harder the deeper you go.
“How did you come to love a man such as I?”
He lobbed a line at the mirror, offhand.
Ding!
With a bright chime, a banner popped up on his screen: an email had arrived. An email now?
Tap, tap.
When Jiho saw “HS” in the sender field, he reflexively straightened up.
Like a fresh private at attention, he snapped to and downloaded the attached files.
Download complete.
The files were titled “01,” “02,” “03,” and so on.
Seeing they were mp3s, Jiho’s heart pounded with a nameless anticipation.
Thump, thump!
Why had he suddenly sent me audio files?
Gulp.
Jiho swallowed and immediately played the finished download, “01.”
— ♬ ♬ ♬
A clear piano line announced the start.
— When I depart, please, do not weep.
A plain, steady voice came through.
— There are far too many words I’ve left unsaid, but please, don’t choke up either.
At that voice, Jiho let out a small, sheepish laugh.
Of course.
The owner of the voice he was hearing was Hyunseung.
— Flowers are bound to wither, are they not.
That slightly rasped tail on the notes made the simple melody ache.
Is this what they mean by acting through song?
— Do not say we were never bound by fate.
With that face and this level of singing, he should be a musical actor instead of a composer.
— We shall meet again someday.
He must have loved a lot, right?
Right.
That’s how he can write and sing a song with feelings like this.
Man, the world is unfair.
Grumbling, Jiho nevertheless closed his eyes and focused wholly on Hyunseung’s voice.
— I’ll cry enough for the both of us, so please—go with a smile.
In an instant, a graceful palace spread out before his eyes.
A watercolor fluttered; the hem of a neat hanbok skirt grazed his fingertips, sharp as a blade.
Far off in the distance, a woman looked at him, neither smiling nor crying.
Do not go.
He only shouted it inwardly and waved to her.
If he sprinted over in one breath, he could catch her in his arms.
Do not go.
His ankles were bound tight; he couldn’t move.
Go well.
And so the woman, her skirt hem that had nicked his hand swaying gently, disappeared amidst beautiful cherry blossoms.
Then on a wind that wasn’t even blowing, a sore, tender feeling swept straight into him.
I miss you—I miss you so.
Ah…
Is this what the feeling is?
Jiho was fully immersed in the emotion stabbing at his chest. His eyes burned.
And somehow…
Even the sense that he must not cry felt like something the song itself had conveyed.
Right now, in this moment… rather than thinking he should play the next track, he bit down on his lower lip and focused on holding back tears.
He bit hard until the color drained from it.
Honestly, if he acted while holding this feeling intact, he felt he could nail the big roadblocked scenes.
Right.
The composer must have foreseen even this and sent it, thinking it might help.
Thud.
Jiho let the hand holding the script fall and let his body go slack, sinking into the wave of feeling.
“How came you to love a man….”
But he trailed off before finishing even one sentence.
The swell in his throat made it hard to go on.
No… do it.
Don’t forget this emotion, this feeling. The composer specially prepared and sent you the OST audio, didn’t he?
“Hoo—.”
A pro knows how to restrain his emotions. Jiho steadied his trembling breath and parted his lips again.
“How came you to love a man such—”
But again he couldn’t finish the line.
Bzz, bzz, bzz—!
Suddenly his phone lit up with Savior on the screen.
Right.
It was the composer HS, who’d sent the OST for his sake. He couldn’t just ignore it.
He’d probably ask if the files arrived, what he thought of them…
“Ahem—hello?”
Jiho cleared his throat and answered.
— What’s with your voice?
A sharp question came over the line.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
— You cried again, didn’t you?
Is he psychic? How did he know…
— Well anyway, I guess you’ll nail crying scenes.
As if he’d called just to tease him, Hyunseung sounded positively amused.
“I did not cry!”
Even as he shouted, Jiho’s nose tip was glowing red.
— By the way, you got an email, right?
“Yes, the drama OST? Thanks to you—”
— Ah, so it did go to you. Good thing it went to you, at least.
“Sorry? What do you…?”
Then Hyunseung’s reply came, a touch of cheek in it.
— I sent it to you by mistake after drinking.
Jiho’s face suddenly flushed like a ripe tomato.
Not from sadness, but from the shame of having entertained such a ridiculous hope.
“So I didn’t listen to it.”
— Good. Work hard.
Click.
The call cut off, just like that.
“Ah.”
Not only had he had that hope… he’d even listened and gotten choked up. He’d take that secret to the grave.
Meanwhile, only after a quick nap did Hyunseung realize he’d sent the audio to Ahn Jiho, not Ahn Sojeong.
Haven’t drunk that much in a while.
Still, it was a relief the mistaken recipient was Jiho and no one else.
Tap, tatatatat—
After hanging up with Jiho, Hyunseung quickly re-sent the finished audio files to Ahn Sojeong by email.
Scritch, scritch—
Then, scrubbing at his bedhead with his fingers, he stepped into the living room.
The house was quiet—his little sister had gone to school, and his father was watching a closed-captioned broadcast with the TV muted.
He watched for a while, then patted his father’s shoulder lightly.
— Son, looks like you’re going in late today?
As always, his father signed the words with a gentle smile.
— I overdid it a bit last night. I should head out now.
— Don’t push yourself, son. You’ll wear yourself down.
Catching his father’s worried look, he nodded quietly.
Either way, even if it wasn’t “pushing,” in his father’s eyes it would be.
And even if he said he was fine, this was a man who would worry.
Hyunseung started toward the bathroom to get ready.
Abruptly, he stopped short and turned back.
“Father.”
In his haste he called out aloud.
But reading his lips, his father looked up with a what is it? face.
— When you look at Hyuna’s sleeping face, what goes through your mind?
Park’s drunken rambling had popped to mind, and he tossed the question without thinking.
Then as if he already had the answer prepared, his father’s hands began to move.
— That there must never be tears on this pretty face.
As though confessing while gazing at his daughter asleep now.
— That I must protect her, even if it costs me this life—whatever it takes.
Words that might sound corny were delivered as if they were nothing.
— Father, then when you watched me sleeping, what did you think?
Suppressing the embarrassment that prickled over him, Hyunseung asked.
His father smiled once, then moved his hands slowly.
— I’m sorry.
Very slowly, but full of truth.
— Sorry you met a poor father and had to grow up too fast.
Swallowing the surge in his chest, Hyunseung hurried to ask:
— If—really if—you saw Mom still alive but with another man, what would you do?
His father tilted his head at the question, then…
— Your mother’s not that sort of person—but even if she were, she’s still the one who bore you.
Just as in childhood, when he’d run to him from nightmares and felt that warm hand in his hair, his father ruffled his messy hair the same way and added:
— I’d endure it and wait for everything to return to its place. I don’t think I’d want to make my children motherless for that alone.
Ah.
Is this a father’s love? Can I—just me—really know this feeling? Hyunseung curled his hand into a light fist.
It was to hold back tears.
Strangely, faced with his father’s sincerity, he became small, and weak.
— Someday when you look at your own child asleep, you’ll understand.
Meeting his eyes steadily, his father kept signing.
— What it means when people say, “it wouldn’t hurt even if you put them in your eye.”
Lines of wrinkles sat over eyes so much like his own.
— About the devotion of being willing to die in your child’s place.
Listening, Hyunseung renewed the vow he’d made at dawn.
Right.
He would write a piece that resembled fathers’ firm, straight hearts. He would make it well.
Like their hearts…
He would make a piece with not an inch of lack.
“Father.”
In the noiseless house, he called to him out loud.
Then, forcing himself to match his smile, he added in sign:
— You know your checkup is coming up soon, right? Let’s go together.
For now…
Regretfully, that was all he could say to his father.
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